Free The Devil and Ms. Moody by Suzanne Forster Page B

its soft ache. And yet she was trembling by the time he released her. Trembling with sensations so vibrant, they hurt her with their brightness.
    He smiled faintly.
    If ever a man knew he could have a woman, this one did, Edwina realized. And yet he didn’t act on it. He combed his dark hair back negligently and rose to his feet, standing over her. With a quick motion of his hand, he brought her to her feet, his eyes flashing over her body with one last scorching look before he broke away. Edwina swayed unsteadily as he left her, as though the forces holding her up were being drawn off in his wake.
    She could do little but watch him as he walked away—long, long legs and lean hips melting into the darkness. Once he’d disappeared, she sagged onto a log near the fire.
    Gracious was all she could think. Good gracious . It was her mother’s phrase, so ridiculously old-fashioned and yet oddly appropriate to the moment. Her heart was hammering, flooding her body with blood and heat and relief. She should have been grateful. She should have been down on her knees, thanking the heavens for her deliverance.
    And yet ... she didn’t feel grateful exactly, did she?
    She stared at the fire, and as her heart quieted, her mind quickened. What was happening to her? Why was she responding to him so unrestrainedly? He was threatening to her in so many ways, but she seemed to be attracted to the danger he represented, perhaps even to seek it out.
    He wasn’t the man she’d always dreamed about. He was the man she’d never allowed herself to dream about. The man she must have known instinctively would be her undoing. And yet how to explain these sweet, crazy stirrings inside her? Did she want to be undone?
    She certainly didn’t want to be one of those repressed women who melted helplessly under a man’s touch, but that seemed to be exactly what was happening to her. Even now, in the aftershock of her immediate relief, she felt a warm listlessness stealing over her. She drew in a breath and held it, closing her eyes. Crazy, crazy woman—she wanted to be with him!
    The admission flooded her with sweet stimulation. She rose to stare restlessly at the river, and within seconds, she was as softened and achy inside as a dreamstruck kid. It was true. She wanted to be with him. And she wanted it badly.
    Conflict rose inside her as she gazed at the river. She hadn’t come to this place for a reckless fling with a biker. She had a mission to accomplish, a man to find, a family to salvage. Obligations. Edwina Moody had obligations.
    Remembering brought the full weight of her responsibilities down on her. She could feel them settling on her like a heavy coat, and at the same time, a kind of pain welled up in her. The truth—the naked, frightening truth—was that she wanted desperately to shed that suffocating coat, even if only for a moment. She wanted to ride on the back of Diablo’s bike, her hair flying in the wind. She wanted to swim naked with him in mountain rivers.
    Impulsively she went to the river’s edge and slipped off her shoes, wading in up to her ankles. The water was so deliciously cool, beads of perspiration broke out along her brow and upper lip. She searched the river’s silvery swirls and ripples for any sign of him, afraid she might find him, afraid she might not. The memory of his touch filled her with a sweet, aching longing, and at the same time, she dreamed of the water’s coolness against her burning skin.
    She began to wade upstream, more aware with every step that she was spurred by something deeper than conscious control. She needed to find him, that was all, and if she let herself dwell on what would happen when she did, she would lose her courage. She continued upstream as the water swelled and swirled around her, and within moments, the river’s currents had strengthened dramatically against her movements. She rounded a bend, and the river sent up a roar. Opening onto a turbulent section of white water, it